


All I Ever Wanted

by theangrywarlock



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Creepy, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, allusions to non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangrywarlock/pseuds/theangrywarlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Listolier, one of Tholomyes friends, comes across Enjolras. What happens is the unnatural degradation of mind and soul. Enjolras is kept in the dark, at first figuratively and then literally. There's just something about Enjolras that inspires certain others to hold onto him as tightly as possible, even if they end up squeezing the life out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

He resembled Fantine.

All blond hair, fair skin, clothing that hung about his person as though it had been designed just for him. He held all the youth in the world trapped in his slim body. He spoke in hymns, the people riding upon his words as though he was used to giving spontaneous sermons. He had the grace and air of an ephemeral being. When the light cast upon him as it so often did, in love with him as well he thought, the light added to his glow, giving him an almost halo.

He gave his time and resources away freely to those who asked. He spoke and gave his full attention to the others when they tried to grab his attention. The crowd never descended wildly upon him. They hesitated, paused like he did, as though they were too reverent to approach all at once. His patience encouraged their own, his calmness gave them time.

And who was he?

He was the opposite of this formidable being. He who held his years as he held his cane. Tightly and without much care. His fortune had doubled in size since the days of his youth, but it was not as much as it would be had he ceased squandering it on pretty young things. He left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, uncaring of where his spoils ended up. Most likely back in the gutter. They flirted with him in the bars and he gave them a few wild nights.

What did he really owe them anyway?

But as the years wore on, he found himself more and more alone. His looks faded. His money remained, but even that wasn’t enough to buy affections. He purchased kisses on the cheek. He purchased nights of debauchery. But they ran out on him now, and he hungered for something new.

This man, this boy could give that to him.

It was an unearthly thought, as though he could steal life from this student, but being around him made Listolier feel young once again. He felt important when the boy turned to speak to him. It didn’t matter what words he said, only that he captured the young man’s attention as thoroughly as the man captured his own.

He combed his hair, purchased a new outfit, and walked up and down the street as the man-child spoke of hushed words to a few of his friends.

The young man did not always look his way. Sometimes his gaze was downcast, his eyes distant, and Listolier wondered where he went. He fought against his anger, at the ideas that raced through his mind.

He could have the boy arrested perhaps. He could turn him into the police and become that boy’s savior as he paid the fine. The boy would be grateful, would ask him why he had done such a thing for a stranger, and Listolier would touch his face and tell him that the boy’s beauty compelled him to do a great many things that he ordinarily would never do.

He wondered if he should tell Tholomyes about this, but his friend had long since married and wasn’t inclined toward boys.

Listolier didn’t think he would be either, but the idea would not leave him be. On one hand, he yearned to take this boy under his wing. To bring him to his rooms, have his way with him, show him the splendor of love and be given back his years in return. To bask in the boy’s sunlight, he thought, would be glorious.

On the other hand, he longed to ravish the boy against an alleyway. To use his cane to do unspeakable things to him. To see if he could turn that sun towards himself so that it would be his, solely his, and to tear any wings off this precious child so that he could never fly away from him.

The two sides warred with themselves constantly, costing him many sleepless nights. His conquest remained unresolved as long as his mind could not decide.

For now, all he could do was follow. Surely his mistresses would understand were they to lay eyes upon this being. But for now, he would have to wait.

And watch.

And act when he was certain.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence included.

It shouldn't have been so hard to lure away a child. The boy looked all of sixteen, leaving Listolier guessing as to the actual age. He attended the University, so surely he could not have been so young. All the same, he may have advanced a few years in school. The school may have made an exception for him due to his money. Being old himself, he looked for the tell-tale signs of age within the boy's face and what he found was nothing but another contradiction. No lines at the mouth or the eyes, but those eyes seemed ageless. A thousand years may have stretched before the boy within those eyes.

There were no houses made of candy in which to woo him away. He was mostly accompanied by another of his crowd, whose names held no interest to Listolier. He looked upon them as one would animals, a minor obstacle within his way. Even if they realized just how important the blond boy was to him, they wouldn't allow him to take the child.

Heartless. They would keep him all to themselves. Selfish.

Getting the boy arrested had proven to be no trouble at all. No proof of any controversy had been found on the boy's person. Listolier was hoping that the child would be released shortly with a small bail. He would pay. Perhaps he would make up a few more details, pushing the idea that the bail had been more than it had, that the boy faced charges. It would frighten him and a quick tingle went down his spine at the idea of the boy lost, confused, and having only Listolier, with his years and experience, to turn to.

Listolier wouldn't let him fret for long. A hero would not do such a thing. A savior would relish those moments, strike quickly so that the child would not forget him, would remember him as being said savior. He would bring the boy home and ask only that the child taste him. It wouldn't be orthodox, of course. One just doesn't ask for those things. The boy would likely be more confused at the request.

This would open the door to Listolier describing the act, to showing the boy what to do, which meant more time with the child. If it all went well, the boy's mouth wouldn't be the only thing put to good use that night.

He was on his way to the police station to pay the bill when his beloved prey exited the station alongside one of his pets. Listolier had seen this one before. Solid, well-built, who looked a brawler and was normally seen frequenting any number of cafes. His surprise quickly gave way to anger. He had been beaten at his own game!

As though sensing Listolier's discomfort, the boy's friend let out a wild bark of laughter.

"Normally you're the one who has to bail me out! Look how the tides have changed. At least it wasn't for indecent exposure!"

The boy made a noise in agreement, his head downcast, two fingers against his lips and clearly lost in thought. Listolier watched them until they rounded the corner, catching only a snippet more of conversation.

"They didn't ask you anything?" The large one was saying.

"Nothing. For the best, really. I'm in no mood this month for an interrogation." Strange to hear the blond speak so much without the topic of politics. Listolier was pleased to note that the boy's voice was still smooth, as beautiful as chimes. He would love to hear the child sing for him.

"It's a bad month for you. Normally anniversaries are something to be celebrated." The two trailed off, their voices becoming too low for Listolier to hear, but he had gleaned another bit of information.

An anniversary. Something had occurred in the month that the boy held close to his heart. A thousand and one suggestions came to Listolier on just what he could do with this information. The horrors of traumas weren't lost on him. He had seen others affected by terrible scenarios, all desperate for another to be there, all reaching out for another human either for security or assurance. He would be that one for the boy.

He only needed to figure out what happened.

This was the easier part of his plan. Students would do just about anything for money, and Listolier had plenty of funds to hand out to eager, greedy hands. "Find me what happened to one of your peers," he told them. "The blond who looks several years your junior."

He discovered the boy's name, Enjolras, and held it close to his heart. This bit of information was worth the crude jokes some of the student's made at his expense, thinking that his need for knowledge stemmed from a carnal obsession. He would certainly say that he was obsessed, but it wasn't all carnal. Some of it was violent and he worried for the state of the boy should he get his hands on him from time to time. How hard would he crack his cane down upon that backside? How many terrible words would he use against the child whenever he felt ignored? How violently would he take the boy in order to break him into remaining at his estate?

But to truly take in the worry was to deny himself Enjolras completely. The only way to keep the boy safe was to stay away, to make sure he didn't obtain the child. And that was something he wasn't willing to do.

The boy would have to suffer with him during those times. He was sorry for that. He would pay it all back with tenderness and money and love.

His money was well spent in the hands of a few of the students. They soon got back to him, saying the same bit of information. A year ago, while on holiday back at home, the boy's mother was killed by an accident. Several toppled over carts and carriages. Apparently it was one of the more brutal incidents within the city of Marseilles. Enjolras had been there and witnessed the entire scene.

Listolier took in this knowledge with a silent respect. Without a mother, was the boy an orphan or was there still a father in the picture? Ah, but with this information he would have to spend a bit more money. Still, he figured, it could always be worse. He had the means now to recreate such a terrible accident.

Memorizing the boy's schedule wasn't difficult. He kept to a steady pace, his rounds only varying by slight degrees. Some days in one cafe, some days in another. He was always on the move, which made things easier to arrange. He lost track of the money he spent, for lives were not always cheap. It helped that Enjolras frequented the poorer sections of the city. Those lives weren't worth anything at all.

When the day came, when the boy walked his route toward the cafe, Listolier was only a few paces behind.

The shouts came first and Enjolras darted toward them until he could see the carriage racing through the street without a driver behind it. He stopped at once, his fingers clenched around his books. A large cart was pulled in front of the carriage.

At the end, Listolier was left impressed as to the degree of the accident. He hadn't counted on so many people being out on the street, so many crushed underneath the wheels of the cart and carriage, the horses toppled over with broken legs in the air, The broken glass window of the store where the cart had been slammed into, and how many people had been within that store because the cart hadn't stopped, and had Listolier been encumbered by a healthier conscience, he would have been far more upset at such a sight.

But upset didn't even begin to describe the boy at that moment. The boy who had knelt down because of his own roiling feelings. Listolier couldn't even begin to go through what he was feeling. Was it just the trauma? Was he remembering? Was it the sudden loss of lives, the waste of it all? Was it because he could do nothing?

It didn't matter. Listolier acted immediately, coming up behind the child and placing his coat around the boy's shoulders. Enjolras only looked up when Listolier took hold of his hand.

"Come with me," Listolier bade him, gently moving him up and taking him to his waiting carriage. His grip on the boy was firm, guiding, but it wasn't as though he was giving Enjolras a choice in the matter. The child's skin felt cold to the touch and Listolier had a brief panic while the carriage took them back to his estate. Had he pushed too far? Did he break the child?

Boldly, he placed a hand upon the boy's knee. The muscle was strong, the leg was lean, and Listolier's heart beat all the faster for the contact. The child didn't move to brush it aside. A good sign, he thought.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked. Best to start off slow, see where the boy's mind was at this point.

Enjolras, who hadn't blinked much at all since the accident began, as though he was determined for some reason to watch it all, to memorize it all, finally turned a very shaken gaze to the man sitting across from him. "I don't remember."

The shock only lasted seconds. Listolier slowly smiled. "That's all right," he said comfortingly. "Everything will be all right."


End file.
